Exactly What it Looks Like
by December Writing Dragon
Summary: Arthur Kirkland is a proud man who has an image to uphold. But he has a certain collection that might make others think differently of him. Unfortunately, his passion for magic makes him too distracted at times to avoid prying eyes. Fortunately the revelation is very well-received. Silly USUK FRussia oneshot.


Notes: Just a silly little USUK fanfic, cause two of my best buddies like it a lot. So this is for reading when you need something to read. P. S. This was all done on my phone, so sorry for any weird mistakes.

**Exactly What it Looks Like**

The only light issued from the candles, small frail flames dancing passionately from the darkened wick. Alone, they did no real good. But with their combined strength, they cast what should have been a warm glow across the room and its sole inhabitant.

No, what should have been the comforting aura of controlled candlelight only made the scene more menacing; deep shadows were cut into the walls, the ominous shapes swaying threateningly as though preparing to strike. The lone figure peered at his handiwork with a calculating gaze, assessing and reassessing the runes drawn upon the floor.

It had to work this time. Hours upon hours of studying could not be in vain. He was one of the few, one of the few gifted with this magnificent gift, a knowledge beyond what many could dream of. He could not waste it.

His voice a steady rumble, he slowly murmured the incantation, careful to get each syllable pronounced exactly as instructed, his hands moving in measured movements. Perhaps it was the magic charging the air with the type of energy only experienced but never fully quantified or comprehended, or perhaps by some further sorcery those simple specks of light knew what was happening- regardless, the flames suddenly began to flicker rapidly in a new kind of dance. The runes themselves issued their own light as energy seemed to ripple through the very earth, a rip piercing through the fabric of reality, a newcomer stirring just out of sight within the summoning circle-

"You called again, Angliya?"

"BLAST IT ALL, I THOUGHT I HAD IT THIS TIME!" England swore, swooping down in one fluid motion to push Russia's head back through the portal. Left alone to stew in his own indignation, Arthur ran a hand through his unkempt hair, moving over to the nearby wall and flicking on the lights. And then his stomach dropped.

He hadn't fully cleaned up. All his personal items were still in plain view of any prying eyes. His secret was sure to be exposed…

Not one to waste any time on any matter of such importance as his dignity (not just as a nation, but as a human being), Arthur immediately arranged a meeting with his unexpected visitor from the previous evening. Fortunately for him, Russia was able to appreciate a good cup of tea if the flavor was to his taste- although the amount of sugar he added seemed superfluous, but it was enough to establish a friendly- or at least cordial- chat where he could address the issue bothering him most.

"How much did you see?" he blurted out as soon as he felt his guest was made comfortable enough.

"How much is it worth to you?"

Damn. He didn't miss a beat. Arthur was not entirely sure what he expected- in a time when information was just as valuable as any tangible advantage, Ivan was sure to appreciate the situation for what it was.

It did not make this any more pleasant for Arthur though. He sighed wearily. "What currency would you like it in?"

Russia took his time taking a long gulp of tea, placing the cup gently back on the saucer, patting the corner of his mouth dry with a napkin, and setting said napkin back down on the table before replying. "Angliya, not all prizes are monetary. Sometimes the simpler comforts are worth more than any paper money could ever pay for."

Oversized eyebrows crunched together as England felt his impatience grow. "Just tell me what I need to do to make sure this doesn't get around."

By the end of the visit they had shaken hands and Arthur had seen Ivan off to the are import waving a tired goodbye as the other departed. Well, not the most graceful of responses, but damage control had nevertheless been done, and he could at least retire that evening with the comfort that his secret would remain as such for awhile longer.

And less time worrying meant more time…

Arthur supposed in hindsight he had simply become reckless these past few days. Leaving such personal items lying around when attempting a summoning, then leaving the door ajar for more unwelcome witnesses. So engrossed was he in his frivolity that he did not sense the presence of another.

"Hey, Artie! The boss let me out early, so thought I'd stop by!" America called as he stepped over the threshold, sliding the spare key England had given him back into his pocket. Seeing no sign of him in the entryway or adjoining rooms, Alfred wandered through the halls he now had memorized as much as his own. When none of the other logical locations proved fruitless, that left only That Room. The room where England would disappear to so he could do weird alchemist stuff or whatever and talk to his imaginary friends in private. Alfred liked to think it was all a metaphor for Arthur withdrawing into the quiet sanctity of his house to plan dates for them to himself.

Ah, the door was ajar.

Feeling perhaps now he would get a real idea of what Arthur did in there, America quietly pushed the door further in still. Words failed him.

"The Chamber of Secrets is in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom!" he proclaimed, waving a Lego figure of Harry Potter through the air. "But how's the Basilisk been getting around the castle?" he added with a wave of the Ron Lego.

One of the fairies made a musical trilling noise. "You're right, Tinkerbell, pipes!" England said enthusiastically. "Quick! To the bathroom!" Beside him, the flying car was pushed into view. Arthur chuckled fondly. "That's not now, Uni! The car comes back when they're in the forest." He chuckled at his friend's silliness. "Oh, alright, Hook, we'll jump to the Shrieking Shack!"

He drew up a Lego set of Hogsmeade and the ramshackle building on the outskirts of the Wizarding village. He then placed a hollow brown box over a Lego Remus Lupin, pressed large grey button, and when he withdrew the box, Remus's head was now that of a wolf's.

"Oh no! He didn't take the potion!" England exclaimed with worry, waving the Lego figures of Harry, Ron, and Hermione through the air with complete abandon. "Oh, thank you, Flying Mint Bunny!" he added as the green creature glided around with a Buckbeak Lego figure clutched in its grasp. "Bit early for that, but I think we've stopped following the original plot awhile ago. And anyway, points for having Beaky actually fly!"

"Arthur…?" came a distinctly NOT mythical voice from over his shoulder. Arthur's entire body went rigid, as though suddenly encased in ice. Indeed, that's how his insides felt as he tried to avoid turning around as long as possible. When he ran out of silent excuses, he forced himself to meet Alfred's gaze. The light from the hall was pouring in around him, making his expression unreadable, while the faint lighting coming from in the room glinted off his glasses so Arthur could not try and read his emotions through his eyes.

"This…this isn't what it looks like!" he exclaimed in a last attempt to redeem himself.

"I think it is," Alfred murmured.

"No!" England insisted desperately. "Let me explain!"

"Why didn't you tell me…"

"What's that now?"

"I said…why the hell would you keep something like this from me!" Alfred's expression lit up like the sky on the Fourth of July. "Dude, this rocks!you totally have every set! And look at them all arranged like that! Aw, man, this is awesome! Can I try?" And just like that, Alfred became a part of England's personal room where he kept all magic - related goods. Yes, including- no, especially- the complete Harry Potter Lego set.

Several miles- and borders- away, Francis was swirling his wine, peering thoughtfully over the rim of the glass at his dining partner. "This certainly is a pleasant surprise," he admitted with an elegant raise of the brow. "What brought this on?"

"Apparently Angliya owed me a favor."

"Oh?" Francis tilted his head, eager for the gossip. "Did Russie find out something Angleterre would prefer kept quiet?"

"It seems that way," Russia admitted, laying his napkin across his lap.

"Seems that way?" echoed France.

At this, Ivan's smile grew sheepish as he shrugged one shoulder lamely. "Well, he asked how much I wanted to keep quiet. I assumed I must have seen something he did not want me to. Perhaps when he called me from his basement. But the lighting is terrible down there, no one could see anything."

At this, Francis laughed openly. "So you just went with it? Quick thinking. I can toast to that."

Their glasses chinked softly.

THE END


End file.
